“The…” Thomas had to fight down a surge of embarrassment. He hadn’t even been the one to come up with the name. “The Others, sir. It’s what the fake Priest called them.”
The Chancellor had no response, but his face made it quite clear that he didn’t think much of the name.
“We will send an inquiry to the Capital at once to confer with the King there. Then we shall decide on…”
“The Capital has fallen.”
Again it was all Thomas said, and again it was all he needed to say to bring everyone to a grinding halt. Thomas belatedly realized that he hadn’t even told Zach about it.
“What?” The Chancellor appeared aghast, as confused and wrong-footed as a foal asked to run. He looked from Thomas to Zach and back again, but neither man elaborated. One didn’t know, and the other couldn’t explain.
“How… how did this happen? Start from the beginning.”
It took nearly ten minutes, but Thomas recounted the story. It wasn’t until he got to the part where he drew the General’s sword that the Chancellor interrupted him.
“You say you were able to draw Chromwell’s sword?”
“Yes sir,” Thomas said, reaching to his belt where the sword was hastily tied. He drew it, where it sparkled a dull blue in the sunlight. For the first time, Thomas wondered what material it was made out of.
“So it’s true,” the Chancellor said, “then I guess this is all the proof we need.”
“I don’t understand,” Thomas said. He had just picked the sword up, why was that so important?
“After General Chromwell defeated the Dark Priest on the slopes of the Silent Mountains, he placed the blade in a glass case and put a sort of blessing on it – others believed it to be a curse. He was the first human magic user, and as such no one knew how to break the spell. But he cursed the glass case to never open unless the blade was needed to smite evil again. Since then, the sword and shield have sat in that glass case, untouched.”
Thomas said nothing, staring down at the blade in his hand. To think, he could barely summon fire and General Chromwell was able to put a spell or something on a glass case…
“Cynthia came here and said you were having troubles with brigands marching on the land. How has the situation changed so much?” the Chancellor said, pacing on the stairs leading to his throne. Thomas was silent as he considered it. This whole mess had indeed started with the brigands attack. But the brigands weren’t the only fighting force invading Ludicra, it would seem.
Unless…
“The Others…” Thomas said, trying to make sense of the conclusion his brain had already drawn, “the Others… are the brigands.”
“What?”
Nothing up this point had shocked the Chancellor as much as this. His eyes again locked onto Thomas’, and this time the scrutiny made it hard for Thomas to think.
“The Others… I saw… they could… when they attacked people, they could… turn them, I guess. They turned the civilians into things like them. If they can do that, then I’m thinking all of the Others were those brigands, turned into monsters.”
“No,” the Chancellor said as he shook his head. It was clear that the denial was out of desperation more than logic. “That is a magic far beyond anything that could have been created in five short years. We here in Verdonti have been studying magic extensively and only begun to scratch the surface its power. It takes the most talented mind months to master so much as moving a stone. To infect people with this curse… It’s impossible.”
“As much as I would love to agree with ya – and believe me, I really would – it seems like impossible is exactly what this ain’t.”
The room seemed to hold its collective breath as they verbally sparred. Finally, when it seemed that neither will would bend, the Chancellor heaved a heavy sigh.
“Then it appears the Magi War is about to begin again. Only this time, we have no soldiers to fight. Attacking the humans first… they supplied the military numbers we needed.”
Thomas bowed his head, lost for ideas. Attacking the humans was a masterstroke, sure enough. And there was little he, a lowly farm boy, could do about it…
Then the blue-hued blade caught his eye, and he realized there may be something he could do after all.
“This sword,” Thomas said, “I could hurt the Others with it. It damaged them, but it couldn’t cut them and the wounds weren’t all that serious. But is there some way we can use this to fight?”
“The sword…” Chancellor Vontanado mumbled, running a finger down its blade to the very point. “It has lost much of its power. The energies inside it, the power released… it must have taxed the blade to the extreme.”
If Thomas didn’t know any better, he could have sworn the Elven Chancellor sounded almost happy about it.
“Is there any way to make it strong again?”
“I do not know. Such knowledge is not with the elves.”
Thomas looked at the blade in mild disappointment. Silly weapon wasn’t even sharp.
“Is there any way to even get it sharp?”
“I do not know…” the Chancellor stopped, his eyes screwed up as if his brain was working furiously. Then he started speaking again. “If you take it to the dwarves of Andomer, they may have a way. They were the ones who originally forged it from the soul-ore.”
Thomas nodded, feeling a groan working its way up from the dark confines of his brain.
“I don’t suppose Andomer is anywhere close?”
“I’m afraid not,” he replied, “it’s on the Southern border of Ludicra, at least two days from here by horse.”
Thomas lowered his head, taking a deep breath. Maybe he should just unload the blade on someone else and move on. He wasn’t cut out for this kind of life.
But as he stared at the blue sword clutched in his and, he found he didn’t want to surrender it. The more he stared at it, the more he knew that this task was his and his alone, and he couldn’t just abandon it. No matter how much he wanted to.
So he did the only thing that made sense, and he sheathed the sword.
“Well then, I guess I need to be going…” Thomas said, turning away from the Chancellor before being struck by another thought. “Actually, there’s one more thing I think we need to talk ‘bout.”
“What’s that?” the Chancellor said with a little less disdain.
“Morando.”
“The war hero?”
“If you say so. He’s been estranged from his wife and daughter, and I want to know why.”
“If memory serves, a note was received that said he had been killed in action. His wife remarried Orano. By the time Morando returned, it was too late for anything to be done about it.”
“I don’t understand,” Thomas said, “why couldn’t’ anything be done? He wasn’t dead. Shouldn’t the marriage be thrown out or an… um…”
“Annulled?” Cynthia supplied, speaking for the first time since the conversation started.
“Yeah, that one,” Thomas said with his biggest smile. It faded quickly. “Doesn’t this count as a special circumstance?”
“I am sorry, just as I told Morando, but elven law is absolute.”
“Yer the Chancellor!” Thomas exclaimed, “there must be somethin’ you can do!”
“There is not…” the Chancellor said, but something in the way he said it made Thomas think he wasn’t being absolutely truthful.
“Except for?” Thomas guessed.
“Unless you can prove that Orano used some kind of trickery to take Evanti for himself.” The way he said it made it seem like the words were forced from him. “If you brought proof, then the marriage will be ended immediately.”
Thomas nodded, thinking hard. Proof? Of what? That Orano was a terrible human being? There was a crying girl who gave testament to that. What was he supposed to do?
He nodded once more to the Chancellor, winked at Cynthia, and walked away. Zach hurried behind him as the left the temple, this time without an escort.
&n
bsp; “So what’re we going to do?” Zach asked the moment they were out of earshot.
“We?” Thomas questioned as he stopped in the road, “what are you talking ‘bout? You can do anything you want. You’re safe here, you don’t have to keep following me.”
“True. So I guess I’m following you because I can. Sides, I always wanted to go on an adventure, you know? Just like in the old stories. Fighting monsters and saving people!”
Thomas nodded, accepting his reasoning. Personally, the best stories he had ever read were just that: stories. He would have been just fine at his farm. But Zach was good company, so it wouldn’t bother Thomas to have him around. They walked together in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts as they headed to Orana’s home. Even when they got there, Thomas hadn’t thought of a plan of action.
“We can’t just ask him for proof that he set up Morando,” Thomas said. Zach shrugged, his face screwed up in concentration. “So what are we supposed to do?”
“Come back when night falls?” Zach suggested, “sneak in and see what there is to see?”
Thomas nodded, though it wasn’t really a suggestion that he was happy to exploit. He needed to catch Orano in his wrongdoing, but he didn’t want to do it at the expense of Morando’s chances of getting his family back.
It was only then he remembered the letter shoved into his shirt. He drew is hastily, looking at the small print that was almost unnaturally neat.
To my dearest daughter,
I know this might seem strange, but if all has gone as I hope, you are reading this letter. Whoever has taken it to you must have finally taken pity on an old father, and for that I am thankful. I wish I could be there to raise you, as was my vow when your mother and I married, but this has been prevented. I would have you know why, in hopes that you can undo what has been done.
Your mother’s new husband was a leader in the Magi War. He commanded the 44th Legion in the final days, as the battle drew to its fierce conclusion. His command was unquestioned and he was quite the strategist, one of our best. He was also cruel and uncaring, exhausting troops and sacrificing lives needlessly.
It was I who stepped forward in an attempt to stop the bloodshed. But when I did, he sent me to the front lines to treat the wounded there. Bound by duty, I did as he commanded with our issues unresolved. The battle was won, then the war, but something happened that I had no knowledge of. Orano had delivered the notice that I had died, and had taken my wife as his own, and you, my daughter.
I was powerless to stop this from happening, but I am powerless no longer. With this letter in your hands, we have a friend. It has taken many long years, and I have rewritten this letter so many times, but finally it seems someone has finally decided to help. When you finish reading this letter, dear, I want you to give it back to the messenger and ask them to read it. If they were good enough to deliver it, then they, by the will of the Gods, may be good enough to help.
Know that I love you, my dear, and I will do whatever I can to hold you in my arms again.
Your father.
Thomas got to the end of the letter and looked at Zach, who was reading over his shoulder. Zach returned his glance, and both men nodded to each other. Together, they turned and walked towards Morando’s living quarters. Morando’s assumption had been correct; Thomas was more than willing to help. And now, they knew exactly how to help the fallen elf.
Thomas rapped on the door, and it was answered almost immediately by Morando. He didn’t look surprised in the least at their appearance.
“You’ve read it?” was his first question. Thomas nodded with a slight smile. “So you’ve come to help?”
Thomas nodded again, his smile only growing wider.
Morando moved aside, spreading his arms to welcome them. Thomas and Zach walked in, surveying the area with interest. Books lined the walls, and there was room for little else. Only a small bed and fireplace were different than the tomes lining the walls. It took Thomas a few moments to realize that there was a table there too, hidden by the books. It was a very quaint living space.
“We know what to do,” Thomas said, looking through the different titles and feeling slightly pleased that he had read many of them.
“You do?” Morando said, moving next to him. Zach stared into the fire, as if lost in its warmth.
“Yep,” Thomas replied, turning to look the elf in the eye, “we need proof that Orano was the one who told these people you were dead.”
“Proof?” Morando repeated, confused, “as in an order?”
“Something like that,” Zach interjected, joining them at the shelves, “or the notice of your death.”
Thomas nodded. He hadn’t thought of that.
“We need papers that prove he sent you to die, and then he forged your death notice,” Thomas said, “and if we can prove it, then we can get your family back.”
Morando nodded, deep in thought. He crossed his arms and started to pace the small living space, mumbling to himself. Thomas and Zach watched, waiting for a clue that would lead them to their next destination.
“Of course,” Morando said only a minute later, a smile lighting up his pale features. “The logbook.”
“The what now?” Zach asked. Thomas was no less confused.
“The logbook,” Morando explained, “is the duty log for the commanders in the field. It is used to keep track of any and all orders given, to show their effectiveness on the battlefield.”
“I’m not sure that’s gonna help us,” Thomas said, “he probably didn’t write the truth in his.”
“That’s the best part,” Morando said, “he wasn’t the keeper of the logbook.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows, feeling truly excited for the first time all day. “So we find the logbook keeper, and we get his copies of the orders.”
“It’s a start, but it will not be enough. Just because he ordered me to the front lines doesn’t mean he faked my death there. It just reflects negatively on his command. We’ll need more proof.”
Thomas nodded, popping his neck. “One thing at a time,” he said, “we find the logbook, and then we find the death notice. There should be a copy of it somewhere.”
Morando nodded. “I have a friend in the archives. Perhaps a copy will be there.”
“Well then, lead us to where the logbook keeper is living, and we’d be happy to convince him to let us see it.”
Morando nodded again, excited and elated in equal measure. Finally, he could make some headway.
“What about the dwarves?”
Zach asked the question the moment they exited Morando’s house, and Thomas had no answer for him. He could understand the unspoken point, that time was of the essence.
But when he stopped and thought about the little girl and the tears she was hiding, he found that his decision couldn’t go any other way.
“We handle this first, then we go and see the dwarves.”
Zach looked unsure, but he didn’t voice any doubts. He didn’t need to, because Thomas already had them. His head bowed as his thoughts battled with each other, but he didn’t have the time to waste second guessing his decisions.
“Lead on, Morando,” Thomas said to the elf, and together the three of them headed towards the unknown.
Chapter 10: The Keeper
The trio walked the stone path as darkness fell, weaving between buildings into the heart of Verdonti. As twilight burned the houses auburn, Thomas felt the hairs on the back of his head stand up. He looked around, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the weather creep up his spine.
“Gentlemen,” Thomas whispered, “do y’all get the feeling we’re being watched?”
Neither man turned or made any move that would tell they had heard him, but Morando’s shoulders relaxed and Zach’s scrunched up. Both of them were preparing for battle. Thomas gripped the sheath of the General’s sword, stretching the muscles in his hand.
“How much further to go?” Thomas whispered.
“Not
far. The Keeper’s hut is just over that rise,” Morando answered. The chill spread from his spine and moved to his arms and legs, and Thomas knew they were just out of time.
“Run!” he shouted, and as one the three sprinted into the cover of the trees. Almost immediately, he heard other voices take up the call, and Thomas snuck a quick look back to check on their situation. It wasn’t positive.
At least five people were giving chase, all dressed in black with their faces covered. There could have been more hiding out of sight, Thomas couldn’t know. All he could do was put his head down and run.
“There!” Morando yelled as the Keeper’s hut came into view. All Thomas had time to note was that it seemed rather quaint for someone of such esteem before the sound of pounding footsteps sounded closer. He turned back once more to see that their pursuers had closed the gap between them. He faced front again and ran all the harder, but he knew they weren’t going to make it.
Two men appeared in front of the doorway, barring their entrance. The trio came to a stop, standing back to back to back and staring down their pursuers.
“You will come with us,” a cold voice sneered.
“Now why would we do that?” Thomas replied, hand on the hilt of the sword.
“Because if you refuse, then we will have no choice but to take you in by force.”
Thomas couldn’t think of a clever reply to that, so he simply drew Chromwell’s sword in response.
“Now gentlemen, we can resolve this peacefully. No one has to get hurt,” Morando said, his voice soothing.
“Orders are orders, war hero,” was the response, “you should know this better than anyone.”
Morando looked as if the black-clad person had already struck him, and Thomas couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at them both.
“What’s he talking about, Morando?” Zach asked, but Morando didn’t appear capable of making any response.
“Not important right now,” Thomas said, seeking to shift the conversation to safer waters. “We need to get to the Keeper.”
“This will be your last warning,” the cold voice said, inching closer. You will surrender to us, or you will be taken by force.”
The Soul Forge Page 9
